My Reunion Fic
by IzzyDelta
Summary: This is my version of the reunion of Sherlock and John. For more details see the author's note at the end.


**My Reunion Fic**

_Present Day (August 2013)_

Three people walk into the middle of Trafalgar Square in a triangular formation. A man of about average height leads them with dark sandy blonde hair cropped close in a military style and walks in the distinct style of a soldier. To his right, another man walks with longer silvery grey hair. The second man is a few years older than the first but is rather more uncomfortable with the situation. The third person is female and a lot younger than either of the two men. She has dark blonde hair slightly longer than shoulder length with dark highlights. Where the men walked calmly and steadily to their destination she bounces on her feet indicating some sort of hyperactivity disorder. The blonde man leading them comes to an abrupt halt and the other two stop keeping a good pace and half between all three of them. The blonde soldier looks to the silver-haired man. 'Ready?' He asks unemotionally. The silver haired civilian nods nervously. The soldier looks over his other shoulder. 'Ready?' She gives him a wide grin. Her eyes sparkle.

'Of course.' She replies. The soldier rolls his eyes before facing front and squaring his shoulders. 'Are you?' The soldier nods once. The girl rolls her eyes. 'No, you aren't.' She mouths. The man standing along side her smirks. She smiles warmly over to him to try and make him relax. 'You didn't need to be here. We could have done it on our own. Hell, I could have done this on my own.'

'This was my idea.' The soldier snaps. 'And we need him. We're the three different aspects of his life.'

'Yeah, yeah, I know. Family, friends and work.'

'And you know I feel guilty.'

'You don't need to. We keep telling you. He would have rather you had arrested him rather that anyone else. You know that.'

'But it doesn't stop me feeling it.'

'I know what you mean. He had a way making it feel like it was always your fault if he did something stupid.' The two men laugh. 'Seriously Greg, you aren't at fault. You just did your job.' It looks like she is about to say more just she starts jumping on the spot and swinging her arms around. She wouldn't have looked out of place behind a block at the end of a swimming pool or behind the blocks on a running track. She bends in virtually impossible ways, as if she is proving that she has no weapons concealed about her body.

'Why did you agree we wouldn't be armed?' Greg asks watching the girl out of the corner of his eye.

'Because I need him to think that he has the upper hand.' The girl stops jumping and openly stares at the soldier.

'Who?'

'Sebastian Moran.'

'Right, who's he?'

'Ex-colonel. Dishonourable discharge. First class sniper.' She glances around the square at the tall buildings surrounding the mostly enclosed space.

'Got a lot of hiding places.' She remarks.

'And got a lot of helpers.'

'Too many civilians here.'

'They'll be gone when the shooting starts.' She states confidently. 'It's not as busy as it normally is.' The girl bends each arm in turn before throwing them down straight spreading her hands. She looks at the soldier. 'Can I?'

'Not yet.' She pouts with an expression eerily similar to one a "dead" consulting detective would have pulled. The soldier and Detective Inspector exchange an exasperated glance.

_Seven month previously (February 2013)_

A taxi pulls up outside a café on Baker Street. A young woman climbs out and pays the taxi. She looks up at the awning of Speedy's café and higher to the windows. She frowns at the dirtying windows. She sighs and shakes her head. She looks at door on the left hand side as she looks at it before heading into the café. She buys a hot chocolate for herself and two strong coffees, pulling a small face at the smell of burnt coffee beans. 'Does John Watson still live upstairs?'

'Yes dearie.' The elderly server says. 'But he doesn't see visitors.'

'He'll see me. I'm… sort of family.'

'He doesn't have any family.'

'I didn't say I was his family did I?' The young woman quickly leaves the café and knocks on the door. She hears a small muffles shout through the door.

'Piss off.' She smirks and knocks again harder.

'I'll send them away. They aren't going to go otherwise.' The door opens and a silver haired man stands opposite her on the other side of the threshold.

'Are you John?' She scans the clothing of the man. 'Of course you aren't. Silvering hair, unshaven cheeks, semi-cheap suits, tired eyes, stress lines. You're Greg Lestrade aren't you?' Greg stares at her.

'Well, yeah.'

'I need to see John.' Greg narrows his eyes. 'Oh, please don't ask me if I'm paparazzi. I'm obviously not. I've got coffee.' She pushes past him over the threshold and makes her way up the seventeen steps to 221b.

'You can't just push in.'

'I'm sorry Inspector, I just have.' She pushes open the door to the living room revealing a depressed soldier. She sets the coffee cups on the table in front of the chair holding the soldier. 'John. He would be disappointed.' The bloodshot eyes roll slowly up to look at her.

'How would you know?'

'I know him. Probably the only one who does apart from you.'

'That would be Mycroft.' she lets at a sharp bark of a laugh.

'Mycroft? What does that fat oaf know? Outside politics, nothing.' A small smirk graces the lips of the soldier.

'Who are you?' Greg asks from the door.

'Have a coffee. And sit down.' she avoids answering the question.

'Tell us.'

'I will when you sit down. I'm not going to catch you if you fall.' Greg obeys and she passes out the cups. She perches on the arm of Sherlock's chair and takes out her purse. She opens it up as if she wants to access her notes. Instead she passes it across to John who unwillingly takes it from her. His eyes widen at the small picture. He darts a look up at her before returning to the photo.

'How could he not say?' She shrugs. John passes it to Greg. The picture shows two men, one evidently a slightly younger Sherlock and the other a slightly overweight Mycroft. Between the two is a young woman, the one sitting on the arm of her brother's chair. Greg opens his mouth to ask a question but she beats him to it.

'Take the picture out and read the back.' Greg complies.

'Sherlock, Athena, Mycroft. Holmes Manor, 22 April 2011. Athena's 20th. Okay I don't really understand.' Athena sighs.

'I'm Sherlock's baby sister. I'm a Holmes.'

'Why didn't he say anything or Mycroft?'

'They both have plenty of enemies, Greg.' John croaks. 'They both obviously adore her. I guess they never mentioned her to keep her safe.' Athena snorts.

'It's not like I can't look after myself.'

'Athena Zelda Minerva Holmes.'

'Wisdom, warrior, wisdom Holmes?' John asks

'Yeah I know. My parents were crazy. Actually, Sherlock named me Athena, Mycroft Minerva and my parents liked Zelda.'

'Do you…?'

'Have the same crazy abilities as my brothers? Yeah, although I don't use them as much.'

'You did downstairs.' Athena shrugs.

'A rarity, had to show you without actually saying it.'

'Who was your favourite brother?'

'Sherlock, definitely. Mycroft was always far too stuffy. Then he was basically an adult when I was born. Sherlock was ten.'

'You know he wasn't a fraud.'

'I know it better than most. But currently, I hate him.'

'Why?' John asks cautiously.

'Because he made you watch. Tell me honestly, would you hate him more or less if you hadn't seen him fall?'

'I don't understand.' John says, a light in his eye that hadn't been there moments previously

'He made you watch when he jumped, why?' Greg watches her confused. John stretches his back thinking. He shrugs. Athena jumps to her feet and starts pacing the length of the room reminding both men of Sherlock.

'I don't know.' He admits.

'Sherlock needed to you to see him fall. He needed a reliable witness, someone close to him. You being a soldier and being a completely loyal friend you were perfect for the role.' She stops. 'I am going to kill him.'

'Who?'

'Who do you think?'

'He is a fake.'

'John!' Greg protests 'How can you say that?'

'He doesn't mean it that way, Lestrade. He's a fake suicide. The moron. He put Mummy through a hellish two months. She will crucify him.' She laughs.

'Okay, where is he?' Athena shrugs.

'I have no idea. Give me a couple days, I could probably narrow it down to a hundred yards.'

'What do we do?'

_Present day (August 2013)_

In the middle of the square, by Nelson's column, Athena keeps jumping trying to burn off her excess energy. 'Will you stop that bouncing?' Greg snaps.

'No. I can't. I have to get rid of the energy.' As she bounces Athena glances around at the windows of the tall buildings surrounding the square. ' A.' she murmurs barely opening her mouth. John's face morphs into an emotionless mask. Greg swallows.

'It begins.' John whispers.

' T.'

'Yeah I think we get the picture.' Greg mutters. 'We're surrounded.'

'Nearly hundred armed personnel against three unarmed people. I like our odds.'

'What?' John spots a single CCTV camera move in a slow sweep. The signal to start levelling the field.

'May I?' John nods and begins counting down. Athena starts moving as if she was catapulted out of the starting block. Immediately bullets follow her path from all directions. She stops a decent distance away and almost begins to dance. The place she stops is the exact confluence of all the bullet paths. She twists her body as she dodges and darts with all the bullets somehow missing her. She flexes her arms and knives appear in her hands. With deadly accuracy she throws one of the knives into a window in front of her. A shrill scream comes out of the window but is cut short when Athena dives into that window and re-emerges clutching her knife now blood stained. Bullets start peppering the wall just underneath Athena's perch. 'Thank you.' She throws her other knife and stops the bullet stream easily. Athena can't be bothered going after her knives have another couple secreted up her arms, these with elastic springs attached. After she kills nearly twenty snipers and other gunners with her throwing knives the opponents of Greg, Athena and John start to crowd Anthea. As if they had been told to keep away from the two men still standing to attention in the middle of the square. Athena freezes and lets the two knives attached to her arms fall to the ground. As the criminal militia form a circle around her she drops to her knees, Greg and John both hold their breath as she disappears from their view and they share a worried glance. But they breathe again only milliseconds later when they see multiple casualties being taken down by her. She ducks, twists, stabs, withdraws, jumps and kicks bringing the men surrounding her down sometime three or four at a time. It seems an impossible feat to bring down nearly fifty people at one time. But down they fall bleeding, ligaments and muscles and tendons slashed. After what feels like hours is just seven minutes Athena stands there with a couple of small cuts to her face and scratches and other small cuts to the rest of her body. Her once clean clothes now stained with blood, almost torn to shreds. She makes eye contact with John and grins the manic grin characteristic of Sherlock at a crime scene.

'We'll have to watch her.' Greg murmurs. Athena picks her way through the dead and wounded criminals to retake her place at John's side. 'Energy burned?' She nods

'Your turn.' She says calmly to John.

_Four months previously (April 2013)_

Athena enters the homicide department and looks around for Greg. She spots him leaving his office. 'DI.' She greets him.

'Jesus. You're worse than him.'

'Worse than whom?' She asks innocently. Greg just glares at her making a big smile grow across her face. 'Have you seen John in a the past couple of days?'

'No, why?' A concerned spreads across Greg's face.

'He hasn't answered or returned any of my calls or texts and it seems no one's home.'

'I wonder why.' A dark haired officer mutters.

'I'm sorry who are you? I don't believe I was talking to you.'

'Donovan leave it. And no I haven't.' Athena's face falls. Her phone beeps. She growls.

'Just because you've lost one doesn't mean you can smother me.' She raises her eyebrows. 'St Bart's hurry.' Realisation crosses both of Greg and Athena's faces after she reads the text out.

'John.' The word becomes a starter's gun as both Athena and Greg rush for the door.

'It's the freak's six month anniversary today isn't it?' Donovan calls after them. Athena skids to a stop and about turns to face the sergeant.

'What did you call him?'

'Athena, not now.' Greg warns. 'John needs us.'

'Who are you anyway?'

'What did you call him?'

'Freak, he is one. Not John but Sherlock Holmes, his ex flatmate.'

'The one who jumped off St Bart's yes I know. Why did you call him a freak?'

'Because he is one.'

'Athena Zelda Minerva, we need to go.' Athena ignores him and keeps advancing on Donovan. 'Donovan apologise.'

'For what?'

'Just apologise.'

'Any second now you will realise your mistake.'

'What mistake.' Greg finally loses his patience with the pair.

'Athena Zelda Minerva Holmes get your skinny little butt to St Bart's now or I will call Mycroft and get him to put you under house arrest.' Athena stops in her tracks. The entire police department freezes at the sound of her last name.

'Told you, you would.' Athena says before about turning and marching out of the office.

'Yes, she's Sherlock's little sister.' Greg tells the silent department. 'And worse than her brother.' He follows her out.

'You're lucky Donovan, very lucky.' Athena's voice floats through the door.

Two hours later the two of them return with an exhausted John in-between them. Athena spots that Donovan's chair is empty and guides John into it. 'You idiot. You complete and utter idiot. Why did you do that?'

'You're the genius, you tell me.' John bites back.

'He doesn't want you to do this.'

'How would you know?'

'He's my brother. Remember? Or did you forget that.'

'He died six months ago.' Athena screams in frustration.

'Athena.'

'Why are you all so thick? How could he cope with all this idiocy? And if you call my brother a freak one more time I will throw you out of the window. If you don't believe me just ask him.' Athena first points at Donovan then at Mycroft. She turns to face him 'Didn't I brother dear, when I was eight.'

'Yes you did. And put me in hospital for a week.'

'If the bush hadn't been there it would have been longer.'

'I don't doubt it.'

'John, you know what you have to do.' John's eyes light up and Athena begins laughing. 'Good, very good.' She starts to clap. 'You fooled us you fooled Mycroft and me. Well done. If I couldn't see it before I definitely can now. Well done John.' Greg groans.

'Did you have to?'

'Yes he did.' Athena answers for him. 'They're watching.'

'Next stage?'

'Barbados.'

'Which is why I'm here.' Mycroft intervenes. Athena's face falls.

'What? But I need to go.' Twin bemused expressions cover John and Greg's faces.

'We agreed.'

'Correction you and mummy agreed. Sherlock agreed with me. You can't penalise me for your and Sherlock's mistakes.'

'Yes I can.'

'She's right. She needs to go and you can't. It's not fair on her.'

'Have you seen her on a plane?'

'We'll take your private one.' John counters. 'I'm sure you can get some lightweight exercise equipment and I'm sure Greg can give us very old cold cases to entertain her.'

'What's in Barbados?'

'You mean apart from sun, sea, sand, surf?' John answers facetiously

'We don't know, but we expect to find out.' Athena adds.

'Mycroft, I've dealt with Sherlock. She's easy compared to him. Moderately.' He adds clocking her expression.

'Please Mycroft. I need this. You two always wrap me up in cotton wool. You know I don't need to be. Please.' She asks him in fluent Arabic. 'Please.' She adds in English. The two Holmes' have a staring match.

'Ok. You know the conditions.'

'No.' Athena and Mycroft's heads snap round to look at Greg.

'Mycroft, you've got to stop babying her. Your conditions… in by a certain time, no alcohol, always to be accompanied, etc. etc. etc. She's twenty-one for crying out loud and frankly smarter than you and Sherlock put together. She knows when to back off and leave us alone. You don't and neither did Sherlock.'

'Fine.' The "do what you want but don't come running to me when things go to pot" is left unsaid but obviously there. John and Athena high five.

_Present day (August 2013)_

John walks a couple of steps forwards and turns in a slow circle arms out wide and head held high. A couple of moments after he finishes turning the three of them spot movement in one corner of the square. Five men form a pyramid formation protecting a lone man walking several steps behind them. Athena and Greg glance at each other. John steps forwards again as the advance guard separates and gives the head honcho clear access. 'Too afraid to meet us with the same number.'

'Thought I might give you something to do. Before I got here.' He nods towards Athena. 'She had a lot of fun.'

'How many men did you bring?'

'Eighty.'

'Not bad, five left I see.'

'All indispensible. Hired mercenaries.'

'Didn't think you would come Moran.'

'Had to see if the rumours were true. Sherlock's little sister.' John turns to look at the girl.

'Yeah, she's very protective of her brother's memory. Been arrested three times in as many weeks after threatening various journalists who were intent on defacing Sherlock's name.'

'I know, spent a week watching Sherlock's grave to stop vandals from destroying it. yes I know the stories.' Moran interrupts.

'He needs to learn some manners.' Athena mutters.

'Respect your elders.' Moran snaps at her

'Have you heard the story about how I hospitalised my elder brother?' She and Moran lock gazes. 'I chucked him out of a window because he threw one of my favourite toys away deeming me too old for it. I was eight. I'm now twenty three and an expert in virtually every type of fighting style.'

'Impressive… for girl.' Athena steps forward to attack the second most dangerous man in London. John grabs her arm and forces her back to her original position. She allows John to order her to stay put.

'Why are you here Moran?' Greg asks.

'Why are you here Inspector?'

_Three months previously (May 2013)_

Greg and John walk up the path to Mycroft's house. Both of them wear stony expressions to keep the façade up. Athena opens the door and admits them into the house. As soon as the door closes their expressions become stoic and purposeful. 'we have our game plan and everyone believes that Sherlock is a fake. One how do we lure him out. Two, where are we going to have the showdown? Three what the hell are we doing here?'

'To answer your questions in reverse order. The fat git is in the far east therefore unable to interfere and is the only place that is debugged on a twice daily basis. Trafalgar Square. With me.'

'With you?' Greg splutters.

'With us.' She clarifies. 'Me, being his little sister. John as his best friend you as his only other friend.'

'Only us?' John asks

'Yeah, well no. Greg, your team will be waiting behind the scene ready to clear up. There will be a lot of blood and bodies and damage if everything goes to plan.'

'If everything goes to plan?' Greg repeats. 'Athena, I'm a police officer. I can't let you do that.'

'I will only be protecting you two… stopping streams bullets from peppering your body. Making sure knives and swords and darts don't go anywhere near you. they will be armed to the teeth I will be having a grand total of four knives.'

'How many do you normally carry around?' John asks. Athena starts removing the top layers of her clothes, all the way down to her underwear. John clears his throat nervously.

'Twenty?'

'And you still move normally?' Athena smiles and redresses purposefully leaving the magnificent array of knives on the table.

'You're tiny.'

'Thanks.' She retorts sarcastically. 'I was a sickly child.' Greg and John exchange a worried glance.

'So, how do we let Moriarty's people know about her?'

'By me helping you out on crime scenes. The stuff that happened in Barbados has already begun to set that bit in motion. Don't worry I won't be as bad as Sherlock was… unless I'm provoked.'

'Okay, we'll get Mycroft to manipulate it so we have to use you as an independent opinion on the homicides and other big time stuff.'

_Two months previously (June 2013)_

Greg is on a crime scene with his phone out waiting for a couple of text messages to come in. 'Come on. Come on.' He mutters under his breath.

'Waiting for Athena to reply?' John voice surprises him. Greg's head snaps up to see the former army-doctor standing, watching him, on the other side of the police tape. To one side Donovan watches John.

'What are you doing here?' Greg cringes realising that his words sound rather harsh.

'How long have you been waiting?'

'Twenty, thirty minutes.'

'Yeah, she's doing something for Mycroft.' John glances around casually, carefully noting the positions of the other officers. John indicates for Greg to come closer. So he can drop his voice. 'But it's linked with the umm mission.' Greg nods.

'Care to take her place?' Greg asks casually as he steps back and lifts the tape. John ducks under.

'Sir, he can't come in.'

'Why not Donovan?'

'He's not on the list of consultants we can contact.' John raises his eyebrows and his phone beeps simultaneously.

'There is an easy way to solve this.' John says calmly. 'Donovan I assume you can check the list on your phone.'

'Well yes.' Donovan become uncomfortable.'

'Check it.' the simple suggestion from John actually sound more like an order, once which Donovan jumps to obey. 'Well?' John asks after a short while.

'Umm.'

'Spit it out Donovan.' Greg says tiredly.

'He's on it.' John smiles tightly as he ducks under the tape.

'How did you know you would be on it?' Greg mutters.

'The Holmes' can be so predictable.' John retrieves his phone from his pocket and accesses his messages. He turns the screen towards Greg, who bursts out laughing. John pockets his phone. 'Not appropriate at crime scenes Greg.' He reprimands grinning.

'What is she doing, do you know?'

'Helping a certain moron herd certain imbeciles to either mow down or transport to the abattoir.'

'Not understanding why you used farmyard metaphor but I get your meaning.' John smirks.

'Neither do I.' Greg and John grin as they enter the house that had been taped off. Donovan watches after them slightly bemused. She is certain that Doctor John Watson was not on that list when she had checked it thirty minutes previously.

Three hours later a very stiff John walks up the stairs to the Baker Street flat that he had previously shared with Sherlock. He opens the door expecting to see an empty flat and therefore is astounded to see Athena sitting on the sofa leaning forward on her knees and with her head is covered with a towel. 'What the?'

'Very eloquent John.' Athena's voice comes from under the towel.

'I thought you were in Italy.'

'I was. I got back forty minutes ago.' John nods slowly temporally forgetting that Athena can't see him.

'Right. Okay.' John walks into the kitchen. 'Tea?'

'Please.' Greg runs up the stairs and doesn't notice Athena sitting on the sofa.

'John?'

'Rest and have some tea.' Greg raises his eyebrows at the number of the mugs.

'Three cups?' John nods towards the living room. 'right, I thought she was chasing bad guys.'

'I was.' Athena mutters as John hands Greg his cup and walks into the living room towards Athena. He stops midstride and stares at her back.

'John?'

'Athena?' John says quietly. 'Athena!'

'What!'

'if you are trying to hide injuries under the towel it's not working.' Greg moves up to be just behind John.

'Jesus Athena.' The two men hear the young Holmes growl.

'It was worth a shot.' She slowly straightens her back and pulls the towel from her head letting aromatic steam fill the room. John puts the two mugs of tea in his hands on the coffee table and helps Athena removes the fabric that has been offending all her wounds. 'And before you ask no neither of my brothers know about my injuries.'

'You have your own network?' Greg asks slightly sarcastically.

'Yes I do. They got me back here.' John smirks as he tends to her wounds.

'She's a Holmes Greg, of course she's got her own network.' Greg rolls her eyes as a familiar sound comes up the stair. Posh shoes and an umbrella tapping on the floor. Athena swears colourfully enough she makes both life-hardened men pause.

'Athena Zelda Minerva Holmes that language will cease immediately. And why didn't you tell either of us you were injured?' Athena groans.

'Why do you think?'

_Present day_

Moran and his people stay stock still opposite John, Greg and Athena. The group of three is equally still. All nine of them don't notice the movement around the edge of the square. In fact Moran and his guerrillas don't notice the movement. John and his friends don't notice because they expect it. None of the three give any indication of the newcomers into the square. The person leading the newcomers in the square is Donovan and a man who works for Mycroft named Steven Campbell. Campbell nods at Donovan who nods at Greg from her place behind the arrow formation. Again none of the three acknowledge the signal. Moran uncomfortably shifts his gaze from John and scans the square. He fails to see the hidden soldiers and policeman because the hiding places were specifically chosen by Anthea and Mycroft the previous month.

'Not very observant.' Athena mutters bored. She starts shifting on her feet. 'can we get on with this?' she snaps.

'No.' Moran and John snap back at her. They glare at each other. A movement in one corner of the square catches Athena's eye. She freezes and stares before shaking her head.

'What is it?' Greg asks.

'I thought I saw… never mind.' A loud beeping sound comes from John's watch stopping anyone from asking Athena to clarify her meanings. He raises his wrist to concentrate his attention on the watch. He presses the button and returns his gaze from the watch to Moran.

'Sorry, we have to go. We've got an important appointment. It has already been rescheduled, twice.' John flashes an obviously false grin at Moran and turns on his heel. As he begins to walk away Moran swings his gun to point his gun at John's retreating back. Greg and Athena grin simultaneously.

'John.' Greg says. The man in question about turns again.

'MORIARTY!' He yells. Moran temporally freezes at the sound of his bosses name allowing enough time for all the police officer and military to explode from their hiding places and surround the eight men in the middle of the square. Moran tried to struggle but he is quickly subdued. As he is taken away Athena spots the movement again. this time there is no mistaking the figure lingering there.

'Stop.' She yells. Everyone in the area freezes. The young woman named after the Greek goddess of wisdom and strategy takes a step forward in the direction of the figure. She takes another and another and before anyone had realised that she is moving she is halfway across the square having leapt over dead bodies, dodged round police officers, militia and soldiers. She throws herself into the arms of Sherlock Holmes. Everyone stares as the consulting detective willingly wraps his arms around her body and embraces her tightly, burying his face into her neck as she does the same to him.

'That. Is. Not. Possible.' Donovan's voice is heard by everyone.

'Evidently it is.' Greg's tired voice replies. Sherlock carries his little sister into the middle of the square and kneels still hugging her. When they settle Athena draws back to look her brother in the face. She slaps him. Hard. All other men in the vicinity wince as the sound of the slap reverberates around the plaza.

'Never. Do. That. Again.' the choke is evident in her voice. 'Please, never even think about doing that again.' Unseen by most tears slip out from her eyes. Sherlock raises a hand and carefully wipes the tears from her cheeks.

'I promise.' He whispers. Athena wraps her arms around his neck again and cling to him.

'I nearly died.' She murmurs in his ear. 'And Mummy. I reckon John would have as well if I hadn't worked it out quickly.' She moves back in time to see Sherlock's eyes flicker towards John and Greg before returning to her.

'I'm back.' Sherlock says running a calming hand over her hair. He rises to his feet and draws her up with him. he keeps hold of her hand and leads her over to a waiting cab. He gestures for Greg and John to enter the cab. 'Campbell, you too.' Campbell hurries over and climbs in as well.

All five pile out of the cab as it draws up outside the flat. Sherlock still keeping hold of Athena's hand. It looks like he is afraid that she will bolt if he lets her go. Sherlock sits in his chair and draws his sister onto his lap and envelops her in his arms. She snuggles into his chest and quickly falls asleep. Greg, John and Campbell openly stare as Sherlock waits for her to fall into a deep sleep before lifting her carefully into his arms and carrying her into his room. He beckons to Campbell and softly instructs him to keep a whether eye on his sister. As Sherlock walks back to the living room John's fist lands squarely in the detective's face. 'That was for making me watch your fake suicide.' John punches him in the solar plexus. 'That is for faking your suicide and causing mental trauma to me and Athena and your mother.'

'I'm sorry John. I severely underestimated the loyalty that both you and Greg would show me. I understand that you won't forgive for this in the near future and I won't blame you if you do. Either of you.' john helps Sherlock back to his chair.

'Athena really needed you.' Greg tells Sherlock.

'She helped me.'

'Even so. She wanted to be with you in public. She wants to be with you now. John and I, we hate your habit of staying awake for stupid lengths of time. She stayed awake only because every time she shut her eyes she saw images of you; dead, dying, in unimaginable agony and that scared her. Curled up on your chest was the only time I have ever seen her fall asleep that quickly and feel that safe.'

'You make her safe Sherlock, and you took that away when you jumped. How did you do that anyway?'

_**A/N:- This obviously is my take on the reunion between John and Sherlock. I have had this idea floating around in my head for ages and have finally written it down. I felt that I had to put another character in there to help prove that Sherlock's deductions are for real. A little sister who is similar yet so different I found was perfect, especially if both brothers adore her to bits. She is the only thing I own except maybe the plot. All the rest goes to the marvellous Arthur Conan Doyle with an accompaniment of Stephen Moffatt and Mark Gatiss. I haven't said anything about how Sherlock survived the fall because my own theories aren't as structured as I would like so sorry **____** to those who wanted to read about it**_


End file.
